#types of rebar

[kemystery-chemicals]

Exploring Different Types of TMT Bars and Their Applications

In the realm of construction, TMT (Thermo-Mechanically Treated) bars have become the backbone of structural integrity, offering superior strength and resilience to concrete structures. However, within the category of TMT bars, there exist various types, each tailored to specific construction requirements and environmental conditions. Let's delve into the different types of TMT bars and their diverse applications.

1. Fe-415 TMT Bars:

Description: Fe-415 TMT bars are the most commonly used type, characterized by their moderate tensile strength and ductility.

Applications:

Residential buildings

Low to mid-rise commercial structures

Small bridges and culverts

2. Fe-500 TMT Bars:

Description: Fe-500 TMT bars offer higher tensile strength compared to Fe-415 bars, making them suitable for structures requiring increased load-bearing capacity.

Applications:

High-rise buildings

Industrial structures

Heavy-duty infrastructure projects like bridges and flyovers

3. Fe-550 TMT Bars:

Description: Fe-550 TMT bars are engineered to provide even greater tensile strength and durability, making them ideal for structures subjected to extreme loads and harsh environmental conditions.

Applications:

Seismic zones

High-traffic areas such as highways and airports

Power plants and industrial facilities

4. Fe-600 TMT Bars:

Description: Fe-600 TMT bars represent the pinnacle of strength and resilience in TMT bar technology, offering the highest tensile strength among commonly available TMT bar grades.

Applications:

Specialized infrastructure projects with stringent safety requirements

High-rise structures in earthquake-prone regions

Heavy industrial applications

5. Corrosion-Resistant TMT Bars:

Description: Corrosion-resistant TMT bars are specially designed with additional alloying elements to enhance their resistance to corrosion, making them suitable for coastal areas or structures exposed to aggressive environments.

Applications:

Marine structures such as seawalls and docks

Chemical plants and refineries

Water treatment facilities

6. Weldable TMT Bars:

Description: Weldable TMT bars are formulated to facilitate easy and reliable welding, allowing for efficient construction processes that require the joining of reinforcement bars.

Applications:

Prefabricated construction

Retrofitting and repair work

Large-scale construction projects with intricate designs

In conclusion, the diverse range of TMT bars available caters to the varied needs of construction projects, offering solutions for everything from residential buildings to heavy industrial infrastructure. Understanding the characteristics and applications of each type of TMT bar is crucial for selecting the most suitable option to ensure the structural integrity and longevity of the built environment.

[screambirdscreaming]

Beach sand dynamics are stupidly complicated. In some places, yes, native vegetation holds the sand together and stabilizes the dunes. In other places, invasive vegetation introduced to stabilize the dunes fucks up the cycles of where sand is eroded from and deposited, leading to dunes forming in places people don't want them even as beaches erode nearby. (Also, massive changes to the structure of coastal wetlands.)

Whether waves deposit sand on a beach, or erode it away, has to do with the beach slope, the sand particle size, the angle at which waves approach, the wavelength and amplitude of the waves..... A guest lecturer for my coastal engineering class told us that, when running computer models of erosion and deposition responses to proposed beach projects like this, you're lucky if you end up in the right order of magnitude.

Beaches are very dynamic. It's not uncommon for hundreds of tons of sand to shift on and off a beach over the course of a year, usually scoured off by winter storms and deposited back over the summer. Anything that tries to modify that process - such as to prevent the sand from scouring away past a certain point - runs the risk of massively changing the dynamics in unpredictable ways.

And then, with "beach nourishment" projects like this, there's the question of where the sand comes from - where it was mined, and what the environmental impacts of sand mining there are - as well as the question of where the sand ends up if it all erodes away like this. (Did you know there's a sand mafia? That's more to do with the mining of sand for concrete, though.)

Anyway the bottom line is: don't put your fucking house there.

You think you're "next to" the beach, but you're very much *on* the beach as far as the scope of its natural processes go. And either you're fucking those dynamics up, or they're going to fuck you up. Or both!

absolutely losing my mind that a bunch of nimby assholes spent $500k to build a sandcastle that was promptly wiped away

[chemicalmarketwatch-sp]

Steel Rebar Market Outlook 2025–2030: Global Trends, Growth Drivers, and Strategic Insights

The steel rebar market is gaining strong momentum, fueled by accelerating infrastructure projects, urban expansion, and rising demand from non-residential sectors like oil & gas and manufacturing. These structural reinforcements have become critical to modern construction, offering the strength and durability required for complex builds. However, challenges such as skilled labor shortages, knowledge gaps in advanced construction methods, and the construction industry's sensitivity to economic disruptions may hinder the market's full growth potential. As the sector navigates these headwinds, understanding both the drivers and restraints is key for stakeholders aiming to stay competitive. The Market is approximated to be USD 224.5  billion in 2022, and it is projected to reach USD 317.4 billion by 2030, at a CAGR of 4.4%.

Segmentation Analysis

By Type

Deformed Steel Rebars: Holding the largest market share at 60% in 2023, deformed rebars are favored for their superior strength and bonding capabilities in concrete structures .

Mild Steel Rebars: Accounting for 40% of the market, mild steel rebars are projected to grow at a CAGR exceeding 6%, driven by demand in residential and commercial sectors .

By Coating Type

Plain Carbon Steel Rebar: Widely used due to cost-effectiveness and versatility.

Galvanized Steel Rebar: Offers enhanced corrosion resistance, suitable for marine and humid environments.

Epoxy-Coated Steel Rebar: Provides superior protection against corrosion, ideal for structures exposed to de-icing salts and chemicals .

By Process Type

Basic Oxygen Steelmaking (BOS): Dominant due to efficiency and ability to produce high-quality steel in large quantities.

Electric Arc Furnace (EAF): Gaining traction for its flexibility and lower carbon emissions, aligning with sustainable manufacturing practices .

By Bar Size

Bar sizes vary to meet specific structural requirements, with larger diameters used in heavy infrastructure and smaller sizes in residential construction.

By End-Use

Infrastructure: Leading the market with nearly 50% share in 2023, driven by investments in bridges, highways, and public buildings .

Housing: Expected to be the fastest-growing segment, fueled by rapid urbanization and housing demand in emerging economies 

Industrial: Growth supported by expansion in manufacturing facilities and industrial complexes.

Regional Insights

Asia Pacific: Dominated the market with a 45% revenue share in 2023. The region's growth is propelled by massive infrastructure projects in countries like China and India 

Middle East & Africa: Exhibited the fastest growth rate in 2023, driven by urbanization and infrastructure development, with a projected CAGR over 8% 

North America and Europe: Steady growth attributed to renovation projects and adoption of advanced construction materials.

Emerging Trends

Sustainable Manufacturing: The industry is witnessing a shift towards eco-friendly production methods, including the use of recycled steel and energy-efficient processes 

Technological Advancements: Integration of AI and automation in steel production enhances efficiency and quality control .

High-Strength Alloys: Development of advanced metallurgical techniques is leading to the creation of rebars with superior tensile strength, suitable for high-rise buildings and long-span bridges 

Challenges and Opportunities

Challenges:

Raw Material Price Volatility: Fluctuations in iron ore and scrap steel prices can impact production costs.

Environmental Regulations: Stringent policies may increase compliance costs for manufacturers.

Opportunities:

Infrastructure Investments: Government initiatives worldwide are boosting demand for steel rebars in public works.

Urbanization: Rapid urban growth in emerging economies presents significant market potential.

Download PDF Brochure : 

The steel rebar market is set to experience robust growth through 2030, driven by global infrastructure development and advancements in manufacturing technologies. Stakeholders focusing on sustainable practices and innovation are likely to gain a competitive edge in this evolving market landscape.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, let's discuss the odds of survival from every nde from the adult mains on the show.

103: Chim and the rebar through the skull: 10% chance of surviving a perforating head trauma. Decent odds, but the exact injury Chimney had 2 survivors registered in history, a worker in the US in 1848 who had major behavior changes and was never fully recovered, and a man in Brazil in 2012, who had a helmet on at the moment of impact, and he lost 11% of grey matter, he's still being studied as a medical miracle and while he did recover, he still has trouble with activities that require both sides of the brain to communicate. Chances of Chimney to be back at work in a month with no side effects are none.

104: Bobby and the plane: if you're underwater for less than 5 minutes, the odds of survival are 90%, bigger with immediate assistance, so good chances here.

105: Bobby and the building burning down: Smoke inhalation has a 27% mortality rate, lower with immediate treatment, good odds.

106: Buck and the bread: the odds of one dying from choking on food is around 1 in 2,461. The mortality rate of a tracheostomy done in an ICU with proper instruments and personnel is between 28 and 39%. I don't think Abby and kitchen knife qualify but let's say 39% chance that would've killed Buck.

109: Buck in the flooded elevator: Same odds as Bobby in the plane.

109: Buck and the swinging bowling ball: The mortality rate from blunt trauma to the chest is between 4% and 60%, which is a very odd stat, but the 60% part is when it affects the heart muscle, since Buck was in full gear that is meant to protect him, I will put him in the 4%.

202: Hen falling through the floor after the aftershock: surprisingly, if nothing falls on top of you, the odds of surviving that fall are 100%, so that one is accurate.

209: Hen getting shot as a teen: Survival rate for a generic gunshot wound is actually around 80%, since we don't know where she was shot, I'll take those odds.

211: Doug stabbing Chim: 8% mortality rate for a stab wound like Chim's if treated fast enough, which he was.

213: Dough stabbing Maddie: same odds as above with a possible infection due to the movement.

214: All that water falling on top of Eddie: No amount of water dropped on a person would kill them unless you're talking about drowning, the surface tension wouldn't be maintained, I just wanted to add this one in because it's kinda crazy.

215: Hen and the scorpion venon: for my surprise, the mortality rate actually is less than 1%, it is pretty safe unless you're allergic, win for the show.

218: Buck and the truck bombing: the odds there are hard to calculate without creating a model of the explosion, but I did find an article about explosions of military vehicles that's a close enough baseline, it gives a 25% odds of survival if the explosion happens in an open space. There is no good way to calculate the odds of Buck surviving the being crushed part, most injuries similar enough just result in amputation. The subsequent surgeries Buck had after have about a 90% success rate.

301: Buck and the blood clots: it actually has a 92% survival rate if treated fast enough, which was the case.

302: Buck (and Christopher) and the tsunami: the odds of surviving being at ground zero of a tsunami are zero. Studies actually indicate that if the water is at about 90 cm (around 3 feet) or just generally "above the waist" you won't survive, not just because of the drowning, but because of the debris in the water.

308: Hen and Chim and the ambulance crash. Since there was no damage to the ambulance, their odds of survival there are 100%.

309: Bobby and the gamma radiation: The survival rate for short-term exposure to high levels of gamma radiation is 40% but that doubles with immediate treatment.

310: Michael and the brain cancer: they never specified the type of tumor he has, but generally speaking, the odds of survival are at about 35%.

315: Eddie and the helicopter crashing: 80% survival rate on those. I was surprised by that one.

315: Eddie getting shot in Afghanistan: odds of surviving the ones he got are still at about 80%, like Hen.

315: Eddie and the well: that's a lot harder to calculate. He was submerged for less than 5 minutes, so same odds as Bobby in the plane and Buck in the elevator, around 90% chance of survival the possible drowning. The actual collapse is harder to calculate, the closest irl situation I could find was a mine collapsing, but there isn't actually a study on the odds of survival of those since apparently the odds of surviving those depend on your ability to "self-escape" if you survive the actual collapse, so much so that there are programs to train miners to do that. Since Eddie has both the military and the lafd training, I will accept that he could get himself out.

317: Athena being assaulted: The mortality rate overall is 27% as long as they get medical care in a timely manner.

401: The landslide: there actually aren't actual studies on the odds of surviving a landslide, since the mortality rate is determined by the type of debris that's brought down with it, not the actual landslide.

405: Buck and the motorcycle: The odds of survival, if you're wearing a helmet, are actually 95%.

405: Buck and the warehouse fire: Again. 27% mortality rate for smoke inhalation.

406: Michael and the blunt trauma to the head: it depends on the severity, but it is a 75% survival for Michael's case, adding this in because he was actually unconscious and he had a brain tumor.

409: Not really an nde but the us has about 22 deaths per 100000 births, and you're at more risk if you're older, so giving birth could've killed Maddie.

413-14: Eddie and Bobby getting shot: Again, 80% survival rate.

I can't really calculate Maddie's chances of dying of ppd or the chances of them dying in the prison riot/being kidnapped so 5a is pretty calm

516: Bobby (and May) getting hit by the roof: remember how I keep saying you have high odds of surviving if nothing falls on top of you and the debris is what's going to kill in a landslide or tsunami? This is the debris. But I also can't calculate the odds of them surviving that without the actual specifications of the roof of the call center, BUT there are studies about your odds of surviving your house collapsing, mostly because of earthquakes, a survival rate is estimated to be at about 6% if, if there's no fire, which there was. The chances do go up to 90% if you're hiding under something sturdy, it's why they teach you to go under something when an earthquake hits, the more you know.

517: Jonah stopping Chimney's heart: There's only a 20% chance of restarting someone's heart. Jonah did it twice. Not good odds for Chim. There might be different rules here tho since he never lost a shockable rhythm, I don't understand enough medicine to know for sure.

517: Hen and the propofol: too much propofol has a 32% chance of killing you. I don't know how much Jonah gave her, but death is in fact a side effect. Fun fact for you is that propofol is part of what killed Michael Jackson.

606: Karen's heart-stopping: that one has a 90% survival from a penetrating wound BUT since her heart stopped, we have to add that 20% chance of her heart restarting. You do only have a 6% chance of dying due to a splenectomy. The heart stopping is the big deal here.

610: Buck (and Eddie) and the lightning: You only have a 10% chance of dying being struck by lightning, mostly because the statistic takes into account getting hit with the charge being released from the primary target as being struck. So Eddie also counts here. Buck did die though.

610: Buck's heart stopping: Remember that 20% chance of restarting your heart? Only if cpr starts immediately. By medical personnel. In a hospital. You have 9% of surviving coding in the street. Buck didn't get cpr until 3 minutes after his heart stopped. His chances of survival are lower than that 9% but hard to calculate exactly.

618: Chim and the gurney stabbing him: I wanna say the 90% survival rate of a penetrating wound to the stomach, but he did remove the object and didn't get medical attention for a while so that lowered his chances.

618: Hen and the concussion: the odds of no damage here are 99%, yay Hen.

618: Eddie and the broken ribs: You actually have a 10% chance of dying from broken ribs.

618: Bobby trapped under the bridge: I'm gonna use the same odds from the roof in mayday and say it is at about 6%. Debris will kill you, dude.

701-3: Bobby and Athena and the ship capsizing: they were never fully submerged, so no risk of drowing, and you actually have a 99% chance of surviving a ship capsizing if rescued. Ngl, I was surprised about this one.

706: Chimney and the encephalitis: mortality rate is 40%.

709: Athena and the smoke inhalation: same odds as every other time, 27% mortality rate.

709: Bobby and his heart stopping for a whopping 14 minutes: He wasn't at a hospital but cpr started immediately, so 9% chance of his heart starting back up.

810: Maddie getting her throat slashed: There are no definitive odds on how likely you are to survive getting your throat slashed, the consensus seems to be that if it doesn't hit an artery, and Maddie's didn't hit an artery since arterial blood gushes and Maddie's didn't, and you apply pressure immediately, which Maddie did, a surgeon could save you, so she's a firm maybe. All places do seem to agree that the blood loss and stress should've made her miscarry tho.

Now that I got this very extensive list out of the way, that does lowkey need me to believe these characters are immortal or have the greatest luck in the unluck in the universe, let's get to the thing that matters.

Do you know what's the survival rate for CCHF? 70%. Bobby survived multiple events where his survival was at under 10%. But a virus with a 70% survival rate killed him. #LoveRealism

[cipher-fresh]

💬 suffering-academy-student Follow

does anyone else wish u could regenerate but not change and not use up a regeneration. just like do a hard reboot

#i'm gonna call myself The Sufferer

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💫 constellationon-kasterborous Follow

what is it even like to not be a time lord do you like get impaled by rebar at 45 years old and just die. couldn't be me

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🚀 silvertraveller Follow

_____👶 timelordtoddler Follow

_____playing with a roentgen radioactive brick in the nursery rn

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🔉 gallifreyballifreyshmallifrey Follow

i love this website because its the only place you can say you have interfered with the natural flow of time and you won't get investigated by the CIA

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😉 winkles-wonderland Follow

who up lording they time

#no I don’t need to add any extra tags thanks I trust my audience will find it

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👦 theresponsibilityavoider Follow

I was skipping school hanging out in a clearing and some guy exited a portal from a CONFESSION DIAL 😭 and he was like “Go to the city. Find someone important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them, they know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask you who I am, tell them ‘I came the long way round’” 😭😭😭 what the hell

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💬 oneofthegreathouse Follow

if you have a fetish for people being born through bodily reproductive systems KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!!! nobody needs to see that on their dash

__♻️ callmeweaver Follow

__Ok Puriteen you need to get on my level. sexualize looms OR ELSE!!!!!

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💫 thecurator Follow

the high council of gallifrey: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “the timeless child” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some pre-Hartnell doctors

My buddy the Master pacing: the Time Lords are lying to us

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🏠 somegrandolgallifrey Follow

I heard some kid crying himself to sleep in a cabin. COULD not be me

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♾️ thatacademygraduate Follow

Went to a museum today! I saw a lot of really cool stuff but something I couldn’t stop thinking about was this horrifically busted up Type 40 TARDIS that literally looked like it was held together with duct tape, chewed gum and prayers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 girl kill that thing I’m so sorry….

#i think it was even still alive. please put it out of its misery for the love of rassilon

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🥽 howsitgoinghowitgoes Follow

Bruh my best friend and I tried to play a prank on my brother but it went wrong and he hit his head so badly he REGENERATED i need to go into hiding

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😐 the-hybrid Follow

Who am I

#please for the love of god help me

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🔹 thetasigma Follow

Koschei and I skipped school today and went stargazing. We agreed to visit every single one together when we leave this stupid planet. I love them so much. We're going to be together forever.

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💭 siblingofkarn Follow

Why do I keep having nightmares about Gallifrey being destroyed in like 5 different ways, that could literally never happen

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🤖 pompousandstuffy Follow

I literally hate children soooo much like today some ninety year old tried to speak to me. KILL YOURSELF THIRTEEN TIMES ‼️

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👽 cheapandnastytraveltime Follow

For a Time Lord I have such a bad sense of time. if chamelon arches were real i would make myself literally any other species

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😍 starstartwinkletwinkle Follow

I have to stare into the untempered schism tomorrow. Any advice?

[god-i-hope-so]

Buck receives the call from Tommy's captain himself in the middle of the night, during his shift. He's Tommy's new emergency number, he's also been at the center of a recent discussion with Tommy's captain about it, after years of not having a real emergency number except his closest coworkers.

Buck arrives at the hospital, a little frantic, still in his uniform. He knows it's "not life threatening" but bad enough for Tommy to undergo emergency surgery. Captain Garcia meets him near the lobby, his left hand in a thick bandage, his arm in a sling.

"Firefighter Buckley? Evan Buckley? Captain Garcia. I wish we'd met under different circumstances."

"Captain."

"We were on a fire near the station, the structure collapsed, probably due to a weakness we couldn't see. A rebar went through his thigh, lots of bleeding, but he should be okay."

"Should?"

"I'm not a doctor, son, but I know when a man's dying. And he wasn't."

Captain Garcia is clear and to the point, and Buck appreciates it.

Waiting alone in the lobby of the hospital in the middle of the night wasn't on his plan for this shift. He could have called Maddie but it was 2 am when he got the call. He'll call her later.

Then a woman and two very sleepy young children sit not too far from him. While she settles the kids on the seats next to her, their head on her lap, her eyes land on Buck.

"You're Evan, right?" she asks in a low voice.

Buck is surprised, he doesn't know her, doesn't recognize her face.

"I'm Sophie, er, Dan's wife, Tommy's coworker. They were together when it happened. I know we never met but I've heard of you and Philip- Captain Garcia told me you were already here."

She looks at him with kind eyes behind her tired and worried expression.

"It's- It's nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm sorry, I- I don't-"

"It's alright, I know Tommy is a very private man." She sighs. "He and Dan have been working together for seven years now. Dan has always been the kind to easily befriend people but Tommy was quite the challenge when he was transferred at the station!"

Her smile is genuine. She's picking at her nails, her hands slightly shaking.

"Can I get you something warm to drink?" Buck proposes, already standing up. He needs to move, idly waiting has never been his thing.

"Oh, coffee? Thank you."

"No problem. Anything for them?" he looks at the sleeping children, realizing they're younger than he first thought.

"Water, for later maybe, I don't want to wake them up."

"Of course."

His smile feels stiff on his own face. He shouldn't be here, meeting the wife of Tommy's coworker on the cold plastic seats of the hospital. He should be with his team, sending bad jokes and flirty messages to Tommy who would indulge him.

When he comes back from the vending machine, Sophie is typing on her phone and doesn't see him.

"Here you go," he says softly, not wanting to startle her.

"Thank you." She tastes the coffee, makes a face and sighs. "At least you know the job," she says with a small smile.

"I guess I do. But..."

"I know. It's worse sometimes, because you know what really happens." She lowers her eyes on her coffee cup, swirling the dark liquid in it. Her loose braid slowly comes undone, letting strands frame her face. "Let's meet again around a meal, when our men are better, yes?"

Our men. Buck never thought about Tommy that way, as part of "our men". He nods.

"I'd love that. Thank you, Sophie."

He wonders if that's what if feels to be a "firefighter's wife", to be the partner of a first responder, meeting around unfortunate events and making plans for better days. Sophie shares stories about the station in hushed voice, telling Buck about the people there, the others wives and partners, the children, the parties and the solidarity. Of course, everything sounds very familiar to Buck, but it's like hearing stories from another family.

Then he hears Tommy's name being called and for a second, he feels dizzy. Sophie almost gets up with him then smiles at him. He realizes he didn't ask about Dan, but he'll make sure to stay in touch through Tommy.

The surgeon is in a hurry but takes a few minutes to explain what she did and what will happen next. Tommy will be fine, his leg will recover but the muscle has been badly damaged and it'll take him some time to go back to his daily routine. Even longer before being able to go back to work.

The room is quiet when he enters, safe for a regular and reassuring beep. Buck hesitates a second, seeing Tommy like that feels crushing, even if his sleeping face looks relaxed. His fingers slip into Tommy's hand before gently squeezing it. Feeling his warmth on his palm soothes his nerves.

"Hey, babe."

[ilovespec420]

This is the first fic in the series. That episode will have a little more than 5 fics, with my old characters. Otherwise I completely forgot about them :(

Trigger warning!! : descriptions of gore, obsessive behavior, threats, GL, yandere and female protagonist, yandere character, dark romance.

Russia. Year 2XXX. May.

You trudged home from work. Your whole body ached from sitting in the shrimp position all day. Since you're an ordinary office plankton, and in your company you're one of those responsible for marketing - but you don't get paid much. The main thing is that there is enough to live on. On the way home, you stopped at a convenience store and bought yourself some chips, an instant pizza, and lemonade. You decided to celebrate a little bit, because you finally paid off your mortgage ! This is a reason to be proud of yourself.

Your footsteps echo softly off the cold asphalt, the wind has blown and you are wrapped more tightly in your coat. But, a couple of seconds later, from the doorway you heard a strangled, heart-rending cry of pain. Carefully, you approached the doorway from which the screams were heard, and just in case, you took the fittings that were lying nearby. You walked into an alley, and after a couple of steps you saw something that you will never forget in your life.

A man was lying on the asphalt, against a brick wall. Most of the fingers on his left hand were missing, and the entire palm of his right hand was missing. One of the ears is cut off. The leg bones are fractured in several places... Terrifing.. Next to him were bloodied pliers, a Hammer. And a strange .. Person..? Hanging over this stump. He cannot even be called a person now.. This person giggled quietly, like some kind of psycho. You step back, holding back your gag reflex. But, you stepped on an empty plastic soda bottle. And it made a DAMN loud noise. And this psycho turned around. Not without difficulty, you realized that this is a girl. On her poor, thin face there are many scars, and drops of fresh blood. Her mouth is stretched in a predatory grin. She rushed to you . And, purely by your reflexes, you hit with a rebar across her scarred face. She staggered back in shock, pressing her palm to her bleeding nose. And then she bared her teeth. Like an animal. And before you could blink, you were already pinned to the cold asphalt, one of her hands on your throat. She's suffocating you. And to make it more comfortable for her, she sat on your waist. You started to choke, and she took her phone out of your pocket with her free hand.

"what's the password??~

" BITCH... Fuck you..I'm not going to say you anything !!"

She squeezed your throat even harder. It started to get dark in your eyes.

"Okay... Okay.. (your phone password).. "

Then, this psycho girl typed something into your phone and put it in your pocket and got off you.

"Well, see you later!~ Have a nice evening ~ my flower.."

You froze in shock, and then ran towards your house. .

When you got home, you immediately passed out on the couch. And when you woke up at 10:00 a.m., you went to write a police report. But without any evidence, the police department just twisted their finger at the temple and sent you home to sleep it off. And that's what you did. But when you were already sitting at home and watching some TV show lying on the couch, your phone vibrated. And the call board appeared on the screen, with the contact "my true love 💜"...

you took this call, not without surprise on your face. And the voice you already know came from the phone. Is this that psycho girl...?!

"Hello - hello!! ~ my little flower ! Did you sleep well ? We'll meet in 30 minutes, at the coffee shop "the caffeine you need so much." If you don't come, I'll come to you myself and break your leading arm <3 ~ I'm waiting patiently for you, honey !!~"

And you had no choice but to start getting dressed. Since you don't really have much choice.. And 20 minutes later, you were there. And as soon as you approached, you felt a familiar icy hand on your neck. This is she. Again.

"Well, hello.. ~ "

And then that creepy girl took your hand and sat you down at a table. Her purple eyes are kind of.. Obsessively..?? looked into yours.. you were sitting nervously, and judging by the feelings, you will soon open your brick factory. And then, you looked down at the table. And there were 2 cakes on it. Vanilla and chocolate. As well as a tray with a couple of cupcakes, and a pot of tea. You look at her uncertainly, and she holds out her cold palm to you. The phalanges of her fingers are long. Like a pianist.

"Well, it's time to get acquainted! ~ I'm Miki Mori. I'm from Japan. And I'm applying for your girlfriend's place!! ~ I have a couple of questions for you."

Then, taking a slight breath into her lungs, Miki continued.

"What nationality are you? What is your height and weight? Are you a racist? Are you a Nazi? Do you like sweet, salty or spicy? What are your interests? What and who do you like ?!?! What color are your underpants now ????"

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor from her first statement. Well okay. You tried to answer all the questions. But your jaw dropped and pierced through the whole Earth from the last question, and from the fact that she wrote down all your answers to her questions in a purple notebook "information about my girlfriend that I need to know <33" And then, she just put a piece of cake on the plate in front of you, and a couple of cupcakes.

"Well, then.. Enjoy your meal ~ my love ~ and please don't choke <3"

After her words, she smiled broadly. She has pretty sharp teeth... It's creepy..and it made you even more terrified that she wouldn't give up on her goal of being your girlfriend. And she doesn't care that you're the same sex or that you don't know her...And you'd better move closer to the police department.

Yoyoyo!! Im hope you like thiss!!! I tried <3 For those who don't know what kind of character it is, here she is!

[thegnomelord]

I've had an idea of a fast regen monster zombie ghoul type reader for the monster!141 au for a while. Their little writing blorb has been sitting somewhere being fermented but it's midnight and I can't stop thinking about how vulnerable having instant regen could be.

Like imagine instead of being treated as a person, a soldier, you're only seen as a sack of meat, something that you don't need to take care of, "it'll fix itself" type shit.

Imagine barely getting any care because "you don't need it" type shit. Getting sent on harsh missions, for example being sent to some place with harsh snow "if you get hypothermia your fingers would just grow back, right?" (Though I doubt that's how it works)

Need to continue the fic where after all that, after only being treated all shit by their old crew they join a new team (tf 141 obvyyy) where they actually like care about you and it's like both "wow what the fuck they care that makes my chest feel warm" and "I've been being the sacrificial lamb for decades I'm used to it let me do my job" for the reader I think it has potential to be funny

-🐙 sorry for yapping

Ooooh I love that idea and I'm so down bad for a tsundere reader learning how about the feelingsTM lol

Like, just imagine laying someone after an explosion pinned under rubble, rebar piercing your body in numerous places just looking bored at the 141 like, "Hey, gonna pull me off or do I have to do it myself?" but you already expect to be given no help, what does a creature of you need help for when you can survive the harshest of punishment?

And you're thrown for such a loop when they help you. When Gaz holds your hand while the others work to get the rubble off you, like he's trying to give you comfort even though you can barely feel any pain nowadays.

Or Having someone like Simon, cold hearted and harsh Wraith Simon, laying you down on a bed and kissing your skin. You heal so well there's never any marks left from even the most gruesome of wounds, but his cold lips ghost over the spaces of flesh where he remembers you were injured. And you hate it how your heart beats so fast from such a soft gesture

[blurryhrt]

Buck should be right behind him. Ravi can feel the phantom of the tug and adjustment that Buck would need to do to follow after him. He focuses on the wind running through his curls on his way down, adrenaline still prickling at his skin.

Then his feet hit solid ground and he should feel relief, but there was a noise– not exactly a bang, it’s too sharp to be a bang. Maybe it’s something snapping, and it nearly made him lose his balance as he stumbled, barely catching himself. 

Before he can even process, someone’s hands are on him, unhooking him from his harness just in time. It’s like the ground itself folds inward beneath his feet, twisting, collapsing. 

But it’s not, it’s not his building that’s collapsing. It’s the one he was just on. The one Buck was still on.

He watches as dust explodes upward, thick and choking, too far but it feels like it was filling his lungs with grit. His ears are ringing, pounding in the sudden silence after the crash. His head spins.

He turns sharply, he knows he looks crazy as he does so, looks like a dog chasing their tail, but he is just waiting to see the common face of a single Evan Buckley. 

His finger misses the first attempt to press on the radio, and the second attempt lands but slides off. The third press sticks, and his mouth is open, but no noise comes out. It’s like his vocal cords have been sucked dry, like his mouth is full of sand.

He heard something else instead, someone else instead, from beside him Eddie’s voice coming through. 

“Buck, status report.” Silence.

“Firefighter Buckley, come in.” Silence.

“Buck… Buck… Evan !” Silence.

There is still dust in the air, blurring everything, as Eddie goes running, down the stairs of the building and towards Bobby. Ravi is two steps behind him, waiting for an order– or maybe waiting to follow Eddie through some type of unorder. 

Bobby says that they can’t go in, that the building isn’t stable, but Buck could be okay, he could’ve landed properly and just broke his radio. He isn’t confident in that though, and the next second they started pulling at the rubble. 

At first, it feels futile. Fingers clawing at jagged concrete, pulling away chunks that feel like they’re barely scratching the surface. The rubble groans beneath their hands, threatening to give way again. More responders join them.

Eddie doesn’t stop, he pushes forward, just a step ahead of Ravi, who can’t stop glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Close enough that he is the first to help with the heavier concrete.

Ravi tries not to stop often, but he can’t help but pause to give the radio another try. Press down and hope that this time, it’s different. 

“Buck… come in, Buck…” But all he gets is static.

Time slips away. His boots scrape over loose debris, his body aches with every movement, coated in grime and sweat that stings his eyes. Bobby’s worry deepens, his eyes flickering between the crumbling wreckage and the faces around him. No one knows what they’re going to find. 

Then there was a choked gasp heard, soft enough that Ravi almost assumed it was from a patient at the scene, but it was coming from in front of them, and he could hear more choking. 

“Fuck ! Buck,” Ravi nearly tripped onto the uneven ground, his boots skidding on the loose debris, as he ran towards his friend, getting the attention of everyone around them. It’s not the most gruesome scene he’s seen, but it feels like it just because it’s Buck.

Buck is half-buried in the rubble, torso twisted like it didn’t land right, and there’s a thick, rusted piece of rebar punched straight through his shoulder; no, lower, closer to his side. 

It’s angled like it threaded in under his ribs. It’s lodged in deep, too deep, with concrete dust clinging to dried blood and sweat. His face is pale, teeth stained red as more blood spills from his mouth, bubbling with each cough. Ravi freezes for just a second. His stomach flips.

And it’s weird, because it’s also not the worst that Ravi has seen Buck go through, but it is the first time Buck has gotten this injured ever since they’ve gotten close.  He moved out of the way for Hen, who he knew could do a much better job than Ravi could ever imagine to, but stayed close enough to hold Buck’s hand.

She’s barking orders he barely registers but he is stuck kneeling beside Buck, one hand reaching without thinking to grab onto Buck’s. It’s sweaty and shaking, and it kinda makes him want to cry.

He doesn’t even know why he does it, but Buck’s fingers curl weakly around his. It’s like muscle memory. And Ravi remembers, from a night where neither wanted to be alone, how Buck once said holding hands helps when he feels like he’s falling apart.

Buck’s eyes crack open, unfocused. He tries to say something, but it’s just more blood, more choking. “No– no stop talk Buck,” Eddie says from beside Hen, working non-stop. 

“It’s okay,” Ravi says, although it really isn’t. “We’ve got you, okay? Hen’s here. We’ve got you.”

He doesn’t know if Buck hears him. But he keeps holding on, so that’s good enough. He just needs to keep holding on.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 11

tw: medical language, scenes of torture (slicing of skin, beaten reader)

Waking up had never hurt so much. There was a cannula in your nose and an IV in your hand. Every intake of breath burned in your lungs. Your eyes blinked away the light, looking around the room as you took in your surroundings. 

To your left, you could see the door to your room and a couple chairs sat next to your bed. A computer and other medical equipment took up the corner next to your bed. At the foot of your bed stood your bed table, covered in different floral arrangements and cards. To your right, a wall of windows covered by heavy curtains sat above a small couch where a man sat, head in his hands.

“Kyle?” you questioned, voice cracking from the lack of use and the cotton type dryness of your mouth. Kyle shot off the couch and to your side, grabbing a cup of water with a straw and holding it to your lips. You wrapped your lips around the end and sucked, groaning at the relief of the water wetting your palate. 

“Thanks,” you croaked out as he smiled down at you, the perfect white of his teeth almost shining in the low light of the room. “How long have I been out?” you asked, looking around the room again with a furrowed brow.

“Two days. Those hits you took really did you in. Otherwise, you’re alright. You were dehydrated and over tired,” Kyle explained calmly, moving to sit in the armchair tucked into the right corner next to your bed.

“Is every-” You coughed, groaning at the pain of using your throat and Kyle shushed you before speaking. “Price and I are alright, normal scrapes and scratches. Johnny got treated for a piece of rebar that tore a chunk out of his side. He’s actually in the next room,” he informed you, sitting back in the chair.  “Si?” you inquired, not missing that Kyle had left the big brute out of his roll call. 

“He was really hurt, dove,” he drug a hand down his face, closing his eyes to take a deep breath before his chocolate eyes met yours. “He’s in the ICU. Fractured his tibia and broke his fibula. But the docs are concerned about the sternal fracture,” he continued, watching you for your reaction.

“Can I see them?” you croaked out your question, using the remote to lift the head of your bed so you were sitting. “We’d have to ask the doc, but we were mainly just waiting for you to wake up,” he answered, standing and coming to the side of the bed to take your hand. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, dove. We thought we were going to lose you.” He brought your hand to his face and you cupped his jaw gently while he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before resting his forehead against yours for the soft, quiet moment of relief to wash over both of you. 

The silence was filled with slow breaths as the two of you reveled in the presence of the other. Unfortunately, the silence was broken as your doctor came in and smiled. “Well, look at that. Our sleeping beauty has awoken,” she chirped, much too happy for this early in the morning. “Everything looks good. We do encourage you to get up and walk around a little throughout the day. Don’t stress yourself though,” she continued, chipper as ever. 

“Can I see Johnny and Simon?” you asked, eyes eager and glassy as you gazed at the doctor. “Hm, I don’t see why not. Mr. Mactavish is next door. He’s been awake all night asking for you. Mr. Riley is in a medically induced coma to allow for his wounds to heal more. He put up quite the fight when he first woke up, but you’re welcome to see him,” she concluded, watching you and Kyle with a keen eye. 

With a brief goodbye and directions to Kyle to make sure you didn’t stress too hard or take out your IV, the doctor disappeared again. You were already working on getting out of the bed, grateful someone had thought to put some grippy socks on your feet.

Kyle rushed around the end of the bed, grabbing the sterile, papery robe that hung next to the door. He slid it over your shoulders and tied it around your waist so your back end wasn’t exposed. 

Together, the pair of you trekked next door and you let out a sigh of relief when you found Johnny awake. “Johnny…” you sighed out his name, shuffling over to the bed and dragging Kyle along behind you. “Petal, you’re okay. I didn’t get to see you before they took me in for surgery and then everything with Si-” His words were cut off as you draped yourself over him in a careful hug and he placed his hand over the back of your head, sighing at the relief of your presence.

Kyle’s hand rubbed over your back until you stood from your spot, bringing a hand to gently cup Johnny’s jaw. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder to Kyle. “To all of you. You saved me and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” 

“I can think of a few things, little bird.” John stood at the door, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the scene before him. You shuffled over to him, pushing past Kyle and wrapping your arms around the waist of the Captain. “I’ll do it. Whatever it is,” you murmured against his chest, so happy that they were okay. His bulky arms wrapped around you and you felt him breathe you in as his chest expanded. 

Before he could break his long running streak of not crying (he cried when they brought Simon in but he won’t tell you that), he sniffled and pulled back, hands on your shoulders as he looked you over. His eyes hardened slightly at the bandage still around your throat, but overall he was glad you were okay. 

“Kyle, why don’t you stay here with Johnny? I’ll take her to see Simon,” John offered, pulling you into his side. Kyle nodded and the two men said their goodbyes as John ushered you from the room. 

As you walked alongside him, you noticed his steps were measured and slow in order to not outpace you. He kept you tucked into his side, the IV pole in the other hand as he led you to Simon’s room.

“I want you to be prepared to see him. He doesn’t look like the Simon you remember right now. He was crushed under some rubble,” you gasped and interrupted his speech before he squeezed your shoulders. “He’ll be okay, birdie. He just needs time.” 

John pushed open the door to Simon’s room and you gasped as the form of him came into view. He was bruised everywhere. The blood pooling under his skin as his chest lay wrapped tightly from being opened to reset bones. His leg was wrapped up in a cast, propped up on some pillows and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. 

Stumbling to his side, you pulled a chair up next to the bed and curled up on the seat, resolute in not leaving. You took his battered hand in yours and gently drug your fingertips over the ragged skin. “Si, oh god, I miss you. I know they say you’ll be okay, but this is all my fault,” you muttered through tears as they ran freely down your face. 

A hand came to rest on your shoulder which brought your attention to the other man in the room. John squatted down so he was at eye level with you. “In no way is this your fault. This is the consequences of our actions, not yours. Karma, if you will,” he reassured you, an edge to his voice as he grumbled the last sentence. You didn’t respond, just turned back to face Simon.

With a sigh, John stood and pressed a long kiss to the top of your head before stepping back. He was relieved that you, Johnny and Kyle were okay. But until Simon woke, he knew the entire group would be thrown off. 

Simon couldn’t see much, a burlap sack covering his eyes. Light peaked through the holes in the fabric, illuminating shapes in the room. There was someone across from him, mimicking his position. Tied to a chair, slumped in the seat while the sounds of whimpers floating to his ears. 

Your whimpers. He growled low in his throat, yanking on his bindings. “Get your hands off her!” he bellowed, keeping his panic and worry in a tidy little box and letting his anger rage on the surface. He yanked at his bindings again when the hood was removed and he blinked away the sudden light. 

“O-ho! Look who finally woke up, precious. Just in time to watch me slice you into shreds,” his captor jovially exclaimed, clapping Simon on the shoulder. Simon, no, Ghost’s teeth snapped at the hand as he finally got his bearings and the face of Darin Moses filtered into his view. 

Beady eyes smiled down at him as Moses moved over to where you sat, crying through the swelling of your eye. The glint of a knife blinded Simon for a moment before your scream met his ears. The knife sliced into the top of your thigh, blood immediately beginning to soak the fabric of your pants. Over and over and over. Slice and scream. 

“Si, oh god, I miss you. I know they say you’ll be okay, but this is all my fault.”

Where was your voice coming from? Your fault? No, luv, it’s not your fault. His. His fault. Didn’t protect you well enough. Shouldn’t have left you alone. 

Slice and scream. Over and over and over until everything went black.

It was the same. Burlap sack. Blinking away the light. Your beaten face. This time General Shepherd stood over you. 

Slice and Scream. Over and over and over. 

Again. Burlap sack. Blinking away the light. Your beaten face. Phillip Graves slicing away at your skin. 

Slice and scream. Over and over and over. 

“Simon, please, get better. The doctors are going to wake you up soon. I’ll be right here, my love.” 

Slice and scream. Slice and scream. Slice and scream.

I'm not sure how many more parts there will be of this fic, but we're getting close to the end.

Thank you for all of the support on this fic!

[ambernotember]

I’m becoming more and more invested in the theory that something is happening on 9-1-1 that we don’t know about yet.

The weird characterizations, the breakneck speed at which things are happening, the interviews that don’t line up with what we actually end up seeing on screen (ie. no HenRen/Madney conflict, no “deepening relationship” for Buck and Tommy in 8x06)

I think something happened between 8x05 and 8x06. Maybe a car accident after they left the cemetery, maybe it was a helicopter accident, heck, maybe it was the mummy fungus. SOMEONE (maybe even two someones) are having hallucinations or coma dreams. The weird jumps and lack of information around some of the characters’ choices (including Hen not talking about Denny!! Hello!! His recovery would be all I was talking about if I were her!) - it’s stories being heard and processed through an altered state.

The kids haven’t been around a lot because they’re at school/following normal schedules as much as possible- we get a couple flashes of Jee but that’s it.

That’s why we’ve been seeing so many references to past calls without people reacting to them; it’s memories or stories. The well, the ladder, the rebar guy on set (I totally missed that even though it’s in the stills!).

It explains the happier endings/quick calls - they aren’t going to focus on the heavy stuff when relaying the stories.

Chim was in very little of 8x07 - really only the scenes with Maddie and Buck at the loft! Maybe he’s focused on Jee (and Mara and Denny?). I couldn’t believe he wasn’t in the limey arse scene at the firehouse!

Hen and Eddie stealing the phone? Can’t talk to Tommy cause he’s not conscious yet.

Athena could have been given any type of crutch or cane, but they gave her one reminiscent of Chris’s.

Buck worrying Tommy could be in trouble, Brad saying his character is in a coma on Hotshots. Heck, Brad being okayed for ride alongs - who in their right mind!?

For the shippers - Buck and Tommy’s sudden breakup? They don’t know if the other one is okay yet.

(Also - 7x05 - the date. 8x05 - Buck/Tommy centric. 7x06 - Chim’s encephalitis. 8x06 - what is characterization?)

I’m *really* curious to see what happens next episode.

Or Tim’s just leaning too far into the classic movie references and is literally gaslighting us all this season.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

What Are Little Girls Made Of

“How far to the lifesigns, Thunderbird Five?”

Virgil stopped the rest behind the ‘mini-Mole’, as he waited for his older brother to respond.

“About twenty meters, Two. You need to veer five degrees right, and one degree down. That will have you breaking through their air pocket at the corner diagonally opposite from their position.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. Five degrees right one, one degree down. Moving out.”

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar – entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[frattweek]

This blog is happy to announce… FRATT WEEK 7 !

From October 28 to November 3, this blog is hosting an entire week about Matt Murdock and / or Frank Castle, but their exact relationship is up to you - lovers, fuckbuddies, enemies, friends, partners… you pick! You can also do a Matt-only or a Frank-only work. OT+ (Fratt+) welcome!

All versions of Frank Castle & Matt Murdock are welcome: comics, TV shows, movies… All lengths and sizes, all types of fanworks welcome: fic, art, fibercraft, translation, podfic (don't forget to check in with the original creator if you're podficcing/translating!)... or a new chapter of a fic, an outtake from a series...

Halloween is also right in the middle of FW 7 so if you're in the mood for a little spook... feel free to add bats, spiderwebs, or ghosts to all your Fratt content!

Each day comes with a theme: Monday 28: Blood Tuesday 29: Bar Wednesday 30: Trust Thursday 31/Halloween: Spirit Friday 1: Pray / Prayer Saturday 2: Bag Sunday 3: Free topic / Amnesty day if you couldn't post before!

You can participate as much or little as you want, it’s all up to you!

If you create art / graphic works, a description for accessibility purposes would be much appreciated.

Don’t forget you can already post in the dedicated AO3 collection earlier - one month before the start of the event, the collection will be set so that all new works are invisible! All newly posted works will be revealed on Fratt Week, so you can start as early as you’d like ^_^

On Tumblr, just @frattweek us and #frattweek in the first five tags :-) More info in the FAQ (open the link in a browser!) and if you can’t find your answer, send an ask or leave a message on DW!

Banner art by @nkeiiin

Detailed ID under the cut, as well as extra ideas for the prompts!

Digital art of Matt Murdock and Frank Castle stand back to back on the left of a dark red grid background. Matt is in his red daredevil suit, hanging upside down and his head resting on Frank's right shoulder. Frank is angry frowning and looking up. Two white lines form a tilted X are on the right side of the art. The text on top of the line is "Fratt Week 7 28th Oct - 3rd Nov", the text at the bottom of the line is "Frattweek.tumblr.com"

1/ Blood -- bleeding, family, kin, clan, spill, martyr, thicker than water, vampire, fake, communion… 2/ Bar -- drinking establishment, bar exam, disbarred, rebar (construction worker!Frank, anyone?), ka-bar knife, to bar someone from something, things going fubar... 3/ Trust -- trust fund, to trust, trust in god, mistrust, trusty (gun, fist, baton, friend/partner…) 4/ Spirit -- ghost, alcohol, spiritual, spiritism, spirited, sprite... 5/ Pray / Prayer: religion, Madonna (Like A Prayer;-), misheard prey... 6/ Bag -- under the eyes, heavy bag, grocery bag, to bag (a criminal?), baggy (clothes?), gym bag, duffle bag, bag over the head, bodybag, bagged a criminal…

[eisforeidolon]

Question: Hi, I'm Angel, I'm also from Austin. Throughout the show we see multiple different types of relationships that Sam and Dean have, that are mostly tragic. For Dean I feel like the big one is him with kids and for Sam I feel like it's romantic relationships. And is there any -

Jared: Wow, Angel, you sure your name isn't Devil? Dean - I thought Dean had great relationships with kids, I thought he had a bad relationship with rebar?

[Jensen laughs, audience makes outraged noises]

Jared: Too soon? Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Question: Is there any relationship that you wish that Dean kept with a child? And is there any relationship you think Sam would've kept romantically throughout the show?

Jared: I think Ruby was pretty hot. I- I'll start, I don't wish that Sam kept a romantic relationship with anybody. I mean, if there was a character, I know who I would hope Sam ended up with? But I don't think that's the story that I was most interested in telling? I think it can live in our imaginations, you know, forever. But yeah, I think Sam's story for the life that he had for those fifteen years and then when he got to live for however many years afterwards? Was told. Was told properly, I guess. You?

Jensen: Yeah, I'm just kind of filing through the different kid relationships that Dean - or the encounters almost that uh - and I'm trying to think of - I know that there were -

Audience member: Claire!

Jensen: Yeah, Claire I think is probably the obvious -

Audience member: Ben!

Jensen: Ben, Ben was early on.

Audience member: Your daughter!

Jensen: [laughing] My daughter? Although I don't know how great of a role, a father-figure role model Dean would have been. I think Dean is more of that uncle role model. And that's just because of I think who - how he was wired. You know I'm not sure that he would have been able to give the kind of fatherly love to some - to a child the way that they really needed? But I think that he would have been able to protect that child, he would have been able to teach that child survival skills. In a way that I think would help the kid grow and stay alive but I don't think he possessed the skill set that a father truly needs.

Jared: That's really funny man, 'cause you said uncle? And this was your question not mine, but my, like, heart answer in my head? The relationship between Dean and a kid that I would have loved to have seen more? Was Dean with your nephew, Dean. That would have been fun to see. Hey Dean, here's your uncle Dean. Dean! Don't!

Jensen: Well, season 16.

[mockerycrow]

Hey again Crow, I wanted to see your take on ghost x male!reader w/ "I already lost them, I can't lose you too." I know this one is gonna sting, bring it on!

HEAVEN FORBID (Ghost x Male!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[THIS HAS MAJOR MWIII SPOILERS. DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS.]

[WARNINGS; mentioned mcd, blood and gore, descriptions of major injury, talks of dying, hurt/no comfort, unconventional confessions, open ending.]

THE FIRST THING you notice is the pulsing in your side; it’s matching up with the pounding in your chest, your heart. The second thing you notice is that your eyelids are heavy, almost like they’re refusing to cooperate—then it’s the ringing. Fuck, the ringing. Your tongue feels like a piece of cotton as you try to lick your lips—they taste odd—you barely feel the sensation, anyway. Your eyebrows scrunch together for a moment as you try to move your legs and you’re not too sure if they did move. Huh.

Your eyes eventually open, your blurry vision staring up into the night sky, smoking swirling into the dark view. You think that the view is gorgeous, the stars populating the wide sky. You don’t get to see them too often because of light population but holy shit, are they beautiful. Twinkling with their everlasting light for anyone to see. Right below your ear tickles, so you bring one of your hands and wipe at your own skin, noticing how.. difficult it was to move your arm like that. Your fingertips feel wet.

You pull back your hand which is trembling and your fingertips and glove is coated in dark red; your own blood. Your eyebrows furrow as you wipe at the same spot on your neck and your hand just comes back with more. That’s not good. You blink slowly, not even minding that you can’t hear anything than ringing right now. You don’t have to listen to the sound of gunfire anymore, explosions..

Wait.. Explosions?

You turn your head to the left and you notice that there is rubble all around you, making you blink once again. Your lungs sting a bit, sure, but why is there rubble? You turn your head to the right and you see your gun pinned under a large concrete block as well as a rapidly growing blood puddle forming underneath from the next large pieces of rubble to your rifle. That’s.. What the fuck.

Then it hits you all at once.

The pain is fucking blinding, coming from multiple areas of yourself; your head, your ear, your back, your side, your fucking chest—but your legs only have dull pains. You squeeze your eyes together as you cannot hold back the choked groan that leaves your lips as both your body and mind tries to comprehend your pain and your injuries. Your left eardrum has surely bursted, you’ve never felt this type of pain before and you can hear the sounds of gunfire and blazing fire roaring in the right. Your radio. You remember your radio. Your left hand, the one coated in your blood, reaches for your chest radio and you flip stations until you hear any chatter, chatter that sounds familiar—

Nothing. You let out a harsh breath as you get fucking nothing, which means they either knocked down the towers or your radio is fucking busted. You try to swear but your throat aches so badly you don’t try again. You take in a shaky, deep breath, trying to reel your mind back in to focus; you need to check how injured you are. First step is to assess. No big deal, right?

You pick your head up—it takes a lot of effort to do so, and the back of your head is wet—and you look down—oh fuck.

You feel the bile bubble up in your throat when you catch sight of rusty rebar sticking up and is in your left side, penetrating it and coming out a bit near your belly button area, the metal coated in a sheen layer of your blood. Your uniform is stained and slick with your blood, there’s a large concrete price of rubble pinning your right hip down, and there’s other large pieces of rubble pinning both of your legs down, neither of them which you can feel at the moment.

You put your head down as you try to swallow a sob whilst closing your eyes, trying to ignore the pain and the gunfire around you, the aircraft’s flying back and forth in the sky. You aren’t sure how long it is when you hear someone approach you, but they aren’t rushing towards you. You already feel quite cold, but a rush of freezing panic flows through your veins to your fingertips.

“Who said yer allowed t’die??”

Huh. Soap. Didn’t expect him. You note that his voice is very overpowering, the sounds of gunfire dulling. “I’m talkin’ t’ye, eejit!”

‘I know that.’ You think, but you just can’t will yourself to open your eyes. You hear Soap approach you and you feel his gloved hands grab your hand, cradling it, as if he’s trying to protect you. “Y’need to focus on t’pain, aye? C’mon, don’t stay here. Y’can’t stay here.”

‘But it hurts, John. It hurts so bad.’ You reply in your head—you don’t question how he knows what you’re thinking—but all of your pain is slowly melting away. Why wouldn’t you want to stay here? Pain free with one of your closest friends, even if he is getting angry with you.. You very much prefer it over the excruciating pain in your abdomen, ear, and back. And probably your legs if you could feel them.

You feel a gentle hand swipe at your ear and jaw, like they’re cleaning the blood away. Another gentle touch to your chest up to your neck near your pulse point, but without a glove this time. “I miss you.” You whisper, feeling yourself unable to rub your face into Soap’s gentle touch. “I know, lad, I know.” Soap murmurs, his voice soothing and gentle. “Don’t let Makarov take ye like he took me.”

“Wake up.”

You gasp as your eyelids fly open, three people looming above you whilst one of them is cradling your face. You cough violently, your throat burning and aching as your vision attempts to focus on the figure that is closer to your face than the other two. The pain is unbearable, a broken sob leaving your lips as your hands go to clench your abdomen, but the person cradling your face uses one of their hands to swat your hands away.

“C’mon—yeah, there you are, love, there you are..” The man who is above you murmurs with a slight shake to his deep voice. You note he sounds familiar, but that thought doesn’t last long as you can tell the two other blurry figures quickly start to begin to move rubble away from you.

“Huh?” You say mindlessly, unable to comprehend what’s going on. You hear fire roaring and and people’s worried chatters and your own heartbeat, fuck, it’s so loud and you can barely hear as it is—

A hand cups your face and moves your head. “Focus here, yeah?”

It takes you a hot second to focus your eyes, but you’re met with a familiar skull plate attached to a balaclava—Ghost. He’s staring at you with wide and worried eyes, a look you’ve only seen a couple other times. “G.. Ghost.” You croak in surprise, looking at him. He nods insistently, a little relief lighting his eyes. “It’s me, love. It’s me. Glad to see those pretty eyes of yours.”

You laugh, but it more comes out as a weird noise as your eyes fill with tears, blurring your vision once more. You blink and they spill down your dust and blood caked face. You vaguely note in your head that Price and Gaz are working to get the pressure off of your legs. “Pretty eyes?” You croak. “Last I recalled, I was a pretty boy.”

That earns a huff from Ghost and a nod, his eyes locking with yours. “That too, the prettiest. Prettier than Gaz.” Ghost remarks, making you snort gently—you feel lightheaded. “No one’s prettier than Gaz, mate.” You mumble, your eyelids threatening to close. “Oi—“ Ghost hisses out, grabbing your face more harshly to shock you awake, which it does. “—Stay awake. We need y’to stay awake.” He insists, his voice breathless. “Trying.” You whisper, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist.

You try to look down but Ghost keeps your head in place. “No- just keep lookin’ at me, darlin’. Only me, alright?” Ghost hums, trying to conceal the shake in his tone. “Already saw,” You reply with a sniffle. “It isn’t pretty, I know.” You watch Ghost close his eyes in sadness for a moment, you both know if you survive this, you’ll likely be plagued with this image for the rest of your life. A piece of rebar sticking out of you as well as the image of your legs covered in debris. You aren’t even sure if you’ll be able to use your legs after this.

“Need you to stay wit’me, alright?” Ghost murmurs. “I already lost him.. I can’t lose you, too.”

Your pounding heart stutters in your chest from the admission—you and Ghost both miss Soap. You have for months; Makarov got away after brutally murdering your boy. You’ve grieved for so long, grieved with the others; it was so obvious someone has been missing from your team dynamic. Every time Ghost makes a joke, you always half-expect to hear Soap’s relentless comments, but they never came. A heavy silence fell over everyone after every joke, because all four of you knew what everyone else was expecting. His voice.

How do you explain that you talked to him just five, maybe six minutes ago? How do you explain to the others that Soap is the reason why you opened your eyes again? You aren’t sure. “Fuck, please—“ Ghost suddenly shakes you—you were closing your eyes again, and you’re blinking awake once more. You inhale sharply as you slur something without thinking about it, but Ghost’s eyebrows furrow. “Couldn’t hear you, love. Speak up f’me, yeah?”

You clear your throat and blink, hot tears trailing down your face—you feel colder than earlier. “I love you,” You slur, followed by a sob. “N.. Need you t’know that. Love you, I have for.. a while.” A beat passes. “Soap knew that.” There’s a unreadable noise that comes from Ghost after you say that. “Don’t—don’t bloody tell me that right now, you fuckin’ wanker—“ Ghost hisses, but you can tell his voice breaks at the very end. You let out a wet laugh before you cough a bit. You wipe your lip with the back of one of your hands to see more blood staining your gloves.

You shudder as you look at Ghost, and you wonder if you’ll make it out of this alive like Ghost wants you to, like the others do, like Soap does. Like you do. You sob as you lean into his warm touch, his heat radiating through his remaining gloved hand, his bare hand wiping the debris off of your forehead. You hope you’ll be able to properly confess after this.

[mybeingthere]

Designs and colours of shells are wonderous - a true mystery of nature.

Here the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute explains the technology of shell-building. Yes, I understand everything, but it is still a wonder. Images are from various internet archives.

"Where do shells come from? The animals make them. Mollusks have an outermost layer of tissue on their bodies. Called the mantle, this layer connects the animal to its shell. The mantle also creates that shell.

Specialized cells in the mantle build the shell using proteins and minerals. These are secreted—released into the space outside the cells. There, the proteins create a framework that provides support for the growing shell. The proteins in the framework also determine which minerals are used in specific parts of the shell.

Calcium carbonate, the main mineral found in shells (including eggshells), binds to the protein. If you have ever seen construction workers build with concrete, this is similar. The protein is like the steel rebar that gives shape and support. Calcium carbonate is like the cement that fills in all the gaps.

Calcium carbonate can form two different types of crystals. One is called calcite. This incredibly common crystal can be found all over the world. Calcite makes up chalk, marble, coral, limestone—and seashells. The other form is aragonite. This crystal has a different arrangement of calcium carbonate. Both calcite and aragonite are found in seashells.

A mollusk’s shell has three layers. Each is made up of similar materials. But how those materials are arranged gives them each a different look and feel. The outermost layer is mostly protein. It’s often rough and may have bumps or spikes. Proteins in the middle layer cause calcium carbonate to form calcite crystals. These fill in the spaces, making the shell tough to break.

The innermost layer is the one in contact with the mantle. It’s a smooth, iridescent layer called nacre or mother-of-pearl. Nacre is made up of protein and calcium carbonate. But it looks and feels completely different from other parts of the shell. That’s because the mantle secretes different proteins for different layers. Different proteins cause calcium carbonate to crystallize in different ways. Those used in the middle layer create calcite. Those used in the innermost layer create aragonite.

As the animal grows, its shell must grow along with it. This happens along the outer edges. A snail adds to its shell around the opening, where it pokes its head out. For a clam or mussel, it’s the outer edges where the two shells separate. The result is growth rings, like those in a tree, that allow us to measure a mollusk’s age.

When the animal inside dies, its shell is gradually pounded against the rocks and sand. Over time, shells break down. They become part of the sand. White beaches have sand made almost entirely of tiny bits of shells."